


Loyal

by LeaperSonata



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Blood Mage no Seisen | Dragon Age: Dawn of the Seeker
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:12:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaperSonata/pseuds/LeaperSonata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galyan headcanons! I do love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyal

Regalyan d'Marcall was loyal to the Chantry.

He had always been loyal, had always loved Andraste, since he was a little boy. Before broken-winged birds took flight from his hands, and people started looking at him strangely, and speaking of magic.

He'd been excited to be taken to the Circle - he could learn! He could heal people, do real good! He only later began to understand the restriction the Templars embodied, and by then he'd seen the devastation a blood mage could cause. He understood. The Chantry control was for everyone's good, keeping mages in line with the Maker's laws, with the words of Andraste. Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.

He threw himself into his studies, working to be able to serve his fellow man as much as possible. His natural talent for healing blossomed, to the praise of their teachers, though he never made it above barely adequate in offensive magics. 

Secretly, he preferred it that way. It disturbed him, that mages had the power to kill a man with a look. He was grateful to have less ability, less temptation, on that front.

And he loved healing. Every time he laid a hand over a wound, frowning with intense concentration, and brought it away to reveal unbroken skin - everything was worth it. Every tedious lesson, every taunt from his classmates about his ineptitude at throwing fireballs - even, later, every terrifying moment of his Harrowing. He could help people, make things better, do good in the world.

He volunteered to help with the youngest apprentices often, soothing skinned knees and telling silly stories until they laughed through their homesick tears. He loved children, and if he regretted any aspect of his magic, it was that he'd never be allowed to have any of his own. 

When Avexis turned up missing, he was frantic with worry. He was relieved when they found her, and terribly worried about what the maleficarum might have managed to do to the poor girl. Such a fragile little thing, ephemeral elf girl in a white dress talking to the animals. She barely seemed real, lying unconscious in the Seeker's arms. So of course he worried all the more when the High Seeker refused to give her back to the Circle, where healers could look at her - where he could look at her. Where he could see beneath her skin with a touch of power, smooth the twisted snarls of blood mage corruption.

Byron's message sent him off like a rocket. He'd do anything to save a child from danger, and that poor girl had been through more than enough. When he found he had arrived too late - Byron in a puddle of blood on the forest floor, and a Seeker girl screaming at the trees for maleficarum to give Avexis back - he froze in horror, staring, for far too long. And then, of course, Cassandra had found him. Mage, she spat in his face, like it was the filthiest word she knew, and lunged at him with the sword she was so unbelievably graceful with. She moved like the wind, like lightning, a deadly whirl of steel and vengeance.

Babbling, panicked, he'd barely managed to convince her that he was Byron's contact - thank the Maker the man had mentioned he was intending to meet someone before the maleficarum had cut him down and stolen the girl - when the other Seekers showed up, understandably suspicious of the entire messy situation.

It was a good thing Cassandra was so faithful to the memory of her mentor, or who knows what would have happened to Orlais.

But she had trusted Byron, believed him, and wasn't willing to abandon his cause, nor the possibility of rescuing Avexis yet. He freely admits he panicked when she started shouting to the Seekers that he had a knife, though that was quickly transmuted to awe when she took down six men in full armor with bound hands and no weapons. The woman was a marvel, a wonder, a force of nature. And incredibly beautiful, he found himself unable to ignore. Particularly when she tripped, hauling him along by the chain that bound their hands together, and he tumbled to the ground on top of her.

How could he have resisted teasing her - so beautiful, so remote - when she tried to get up and ended up straddling him instead? His jaw ached for hours after her strike - Maker, the woman was strong - but it was worth it for the look on her face. (Or at least, it was worth it until she had looked to be about to skewer him, and scared him out of a year's life.)


End file.
